Sixteen Hours
by hiddenmoments
Summary: The last leg of their own hunt takes Don and Ian sixteen hours from beginning to end, and this takes us from after Four Escapes all the way to Eighty Days.
1. Chapter 1

_**Nope, I checked, not mine**_

_i._

The spiders are crawling, cold hands touching his face as frigid water soaks into his every pore and Don jolts awake with a strangled gasp, eyes flying open at the sudden, darkly mirthful laughter. Ian is stony and silent as the fingers leave bruises along sharp cheekbones.

Like tiny splinters of ice, the voice pierces every part of them as it says that one more move is necessary, because there is just one final lesson. It leans closer to Don and whispers lightly that this is going to be a lesson for their old friend Billy Cooper, too. The affected drawl makes Ian's teeth grind.

Just the mention of the name sends a surge through Don and he bucks, forehead hitting the aristocratic nose with a sickening, satisfying crack. (_he won't get you Coop promise_)

Stars swim across his vision but he holds stubbornly to consciousness as the voice spits profanities.

_ii._

Just like it only took seconds to go wrong (_it all went so wrong_) what feels like years ago, it only takes seconds to all of a sudden become right again.

(_right might be pushing it a little_)

It only takes a cat darting across the road to send the SUV careening off course at fifty miles an hour, a split second for the wheels to spin in the loose gravel on the side of the road and then everything whirls as they roll.

As tightly strapped in and restrained as they are, when the vehicle finishes rolling and comes to a solid halt on its side, Don and Ian are little more than rattled and nauseous. (_of course a car accident won't kill us not anymore_) The same can't be said for the driver or the men either side of them, however.

The one beside Ian and against the window closest to the ground looks dead, if the awkward angle of his neck and glazed eyes is anything to go by. Don can feel the warm, sour breath of the one resting heavily against his side, but the man is definitely not conscious. The oozing blood that has coated some of the cracked window facing the sky suggests he'll be out for a while. They can't see the driver but there is blood dripping along the steering wheel and what might be a spatter across the windshield. (_yes yes yes yes_)

Hope begins to stir, warm and bright, in their stomachs.

It takes a while for them to figure out a way to undo the seatbelts holding them fast with still cuffed hands. It takes even longer to get the keys to the cuffs from the dead man's pocket and slowly free each other. Their hands tremble, pressed together for just a moment. (_hold steady to reality_)

It takes considerably more time to manoeuvre around the still unconscious man, take the two handguns they find and figure out how to prop the door open far enough for them to get out. The assault rifle they decide on, pilfered from the trunk, isn't perfect, but it holds long enough for Don to climb out. His foot impacts hard with the unconscious man's ribs in the effort (_not sorry because it wasn't an accident_) and he stirs, eyes fluttering and head moving forward.

Ian moves like a viper and the strike he delivers across the back of the man's skull is enough to render him solidly unconscious again. (_satisfaction_) The smile that he and Don share is all bared teeth and adrenaline as he presses himself against the back of the driver's seat and releases the seatbelt clasp. The unconscious man falls to land against the dead one and Ian slowly climbs up and over them, Don's arm hauling him onto the side of the car.

A glance at the sun tells Ian that maybe three hours have passed since they started driving and he guesses that it's between three and four in the afternoon as they slowly slide down the side of the totalled vehicle, feet landing on springy grass. The sound of an approaching car makes them still instantly.

The road is about fifty yards away and they can hear the rumble of an engine much more clearly now. A nearby copse of trees offers some shelter and they wait there as the front end of a shiny silver sedan stops just within view. Ian's hand closes around Don's and they are breathless with anticipation.

(_rescue finally this is almost over_)

The raised voices that begin to come closer and one look at the guns in the familiar pair's hands are enough to quell that fever dream and they run.

_iii._

They play leapfrog for what must be at least another two hours, hiding and running and thoroughly exhausting themselves but are forced to stop when the long stretch of dirt road straightens out as they approach what looks like a small industrial area. They can hear the car that has been following them getting closer. (_time is running out it's getting dark_)

Don's breath is coming in painful gasps. Ian's whole body aches. (_can't keep running they're coming_) They find a small group of bushes a few yards from the road and hide themselves as best they can.

The silver sedan rolls into view and Don buries his face in his arms to muffle the sound of his ragged breathing. Ian's arm aches as he holds the handgun steady (_not going back this time not even a chance_) and waits as the car stops, headlights illuminating the road ahead.

Four men get out of the car. The driver and other man from the vehicle look pale and unsteady but mutinous enough that they can't be dismissed. Gravel is there and Ian's jaw clenches painfully as he bites back a growl. The overweight man is familiar but they don't know his name.

Gravel kneels beside the dirt road with a flashlight, scanning for tracks, and Don finally gets his breathing under control enough to lift his head. The stars and moon offer enough light to travel by but the chill in the air is starting to seep into their bones. (_they can't take us alive if we refuse to go quietly surely they're tired of dying to keep punishing us_)

A few moments later, capable hands hold the other gun, mostly steady with only the slightest tremor, next to Ian's (_Cooper was right to never have another partner when you left Eppes it would have just been a poor excuse_) and a steady litany of encouragement leaves Don's mouth in a raid-whisper low enough to be inaudible to anyone further than a yard away.

Eventually, inevitably, Gravel's keen eyes follow the flashlight to fall on the bushes and find the tracks they were too tired, too hurried, too desperate to be able to hide. His teeth flash, visible even from a hundred yards away and he motions the others over.

Go for the two injured and get them down and then run, the raid-whisper is familiar and comforting. This is combat, they're armed, the odds are doable and this is their world again.

The two injured men from the car make noises of excitement and two simultaneous cracks leave the handguns and two figures cry out as bullets tear into their flesh. (_shaking hands that wasn't a kill shot run_)

Two shadows rise and bolt into the growing dark as a barrage of gunfire follows them.

_iv._

They're no match for the car and haven't even made it a mile (_lights town in sight though_) when the flashlights pin them like a pair of startled deer. Don pulls Ian towards him and down. (_quick_) They hit the ground as a hail of bullets pass through the space they'd occupied just barely a second ago, tearing through foliage, and realise that they have silencers which makes everything worse.

Breath leaves their lungs as they roll into the narrow strip between the road and the sparse forest. A sound that once upon a time might have been laughter spills out behind it as Ian realises that their hesitation to kill is gone. Don's thoughts are similar (_end this now right now_) and he rises to a crouch before launching into a sprint towards the car.

He fires once as he runs, the crack of the handgun absurdly loud and Ian takes the second shot, putting one of the injured men down for good. The other falls but Gravel and the last man are still firing. (_tearing up the ground better not hit skin_)

A shadow that can only be Don hits Gravel's midsection and Ian fires another shot at the other gunman. Overweight, he hits the ground like a sack of bricks with a cry of pain even as the pair of shadows on the other side of the car go down in a tangle of limbs.

There's a shot and a wet thudding sound before a howl of pain and then the sound of what must be a gun impacting with flesh. Don struggles to his feet even as Ian does the same. A bullet tears up the ground between them as the man Ian grazed fires at them.

Gravel is out cold and there is a flash of silver as Don tears something that gleams in the moonlight from his shoulder (_agony agony agony_) and then they're running again.

_v._

Don's hands are stained and covered with congealed blood by the time they stop and Ian can hide them in the shadows of a warehouse. (_must stop the blood before they find us again_)

They huddle beside the building, the back of Don's shoulder pressed tightly to Ian's chest as they both hold a hand each to the sluggishly bleeding entry wound and try to regulate their breathing.

(_less than twelve hours til sunrise Don just hold on_)

* * *

_**Okay, so here's 1700 words – I can't say that the rest is done but I do know where it's going so I'll do my best to nut it out as I can. Things are kind of intense right now so I'm not sure how I feel about this or how it turned out. I hope you all enjoy it though.**_

_**This seminar is insane, just quietly. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to eat out or trust anyone else to cook for me ever again. On the plus side, I **_**am**_** making stuffed capsicums and mushrooms for dinner right now. I guess it's a tradeoff. I do promise I'll reply to the reviews from the last one eventually, they were all especially amazing and supportive!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**I cried while writing the last section though, which is nothing new, but you might want to grab a handful of tissues. Or a chocolate bar to make yourself feel better, it was REALLY hard to resist and I knew what was coming from the beginning.**_

**Part II**

_i._

The jolting sensation as he regains consciousness makes Don startle. Ian tightens his grip just a little and murmurs quiet reassurance until he relaxes. (_don't upset the wound you can't afford to lose any more blood_)

A whisper asks whether they've been spotted and Ian shakes his head slightly before using his free hand to slide the handgun resting on his knee back into Don's grasp. He lets his arm fall from around the other man's chest, taking his hand from the wound and wiping the congealed blood (_bleeding is mostly stopped now good sign_) across his thigh to try and prevent leaving any evidence of their presence behind.

Sliding out from behind Don, he murmurs that it's probably nearing midnight and they need to get moving. The industrial area they seem to have stumbled upon seems deserted. (_I think I can hear the car as well we need to keep running_)

It takes them a few moments to gain their feet again, shaking out numb limbs and trying to get blood flowing again. The quiet rumble of a car engine becomes audible and Ian swallows thickly as he looks at Don.

They're both sickly pale and shivering and aching (_it doesn't matter right now we're still free of them_) but their hands firm around the guns regardless. Don covers his shoulder with his left hand and using the shadows, they begin to move along the side of the warehouse.

_ii._

The bullet striking the asphalt barely a foot away is the first warning they get that they're being followed again. (_they found us they're coming for us why didn't I hear them coming_) They dive apart and Don's breathing hitches as the movement tears the temporary closure of the wound. His fingers clench tighter around the wound as he feels the blood start to seep against his palm again.

Ian skirts an overturned crate and twists, catching a glimpse of the metal of a barrel and a round shadow. (_not Gravel we can outrun this one_)

Don's good shoulder hits the wall of the next building they reach (_god it hurts so bad_) and he manages to manipulate his slide down the wall, sending a round in the direction of the shadow as Ian drops into a crouch and takes a shot that carves a shallow valley through curve of the protruding stomach.

The man goes down with a cry and Ian rises slowly. His gait is a little unsteady but Don can still see the stalk (_doesn't matter what happens still a hunter even when we're the hunted_) as he collects the gun and returns to the side of the building.

He tells Don that they can't wait because who knows how far behind Gravel is. Even nodding is painful and Don's vision blurs as Ian pulls him to his feet. (_don't know how far I'll last_) He whispers a quiet apology and the breathy reply that he has nothing to apologise for, not before, now, ever, somehow feels like an all-encompassing absolution.

_iii._

They make it into a shadowy, narrow alley before Don's knees give out. (_so sorry_)

Ian can hardly breathe himself and in spite of themselves, they have to drag themselves towards a particularly dark area. (_rest a little while just need to rest then you'll be okay_) Hands slippery with blood and heart beating uncomfortably fast, Don's body wavers before landing heavily against Ian's side.

Panic surges through him as he tries to pull the smaller man towards him. The exposed skin is cool and a little damp to the touch (_too cold too cold this is taking too long_) and his own hands are struggling to stop shaking long enough to get a firm grip.

A few minutes of futile struggling later, Don responds and with deep, rattling breaths, leans closer as he reaches to cover the wound with his hand again. Ian sets the guns between his legs and places both of his over it too. As he feels the steady seeping of warm blood through Don's fingers against his own skin, he realises that they really don't have much time left.

He whispers quietly that they can rest a little while now and regroup because daylight can't be far away now and he just knows that someone will be there for them soon. Billy, Colby, David, Liz, Nikki.

Don breathes out softly and murmurs that he really would like to see them again because he really should tell them more often that they're the best team he's ever had.

The words taste like hope in his mouth as he says that they'll be coming soon.

(_don't make a liar out of me someone please hurry please please please_)

The taste of hope quickly becomes the taste of blood as his teeth open the side of his cheek again.

_iv_.

The alley is where Gravel finds them, half in and half out of reality.

Don's fingers flex and clench around the gun as his eyes struggle to focus. (_last one this is the last one_)

Ian twists his body to try and make them less visible (_don't know if I can get up_) and his muscles scream in protest.

A flicker of moonlight illuminates the trail of blood winding down the side of Gravel's face from his hairline and the sight makes a rush of hot adrenaline flood Don't blood and somehow it knocks the cobwebs and haze from his mind instantly.

There is no hesitation, no unease. His body responds instantly as he slides around Ian's body, and his legs don't even quiver as he rises. The bullet that tears into his shoulder, right above the already bleeding wound, sends his left side jerking backwards. (_correct for your balance don't let anything affect your aim you keep your eyes on your target, you hear me_)

The crack of the gun in Ian's hand makes Gravel startle and Don seizes the moment.

(_never wanted to take a shot like I do right now_)

The tall man crumples with a cluster of three shots around his heart.

Ian lunges to put himself between Don and the ground as the adrenaline fails and the gun clatters to the ground. A breathless litany (_no no no no_) is spilling from his lips even as blood spills from Don's mangled shoulder.

He has no idea where the strength comes from but he manages to haul them both to their feet even as his hands grasp for Don's and presses the tangle of fingers and slick skin to the gushing wound. (_you've never given up on a thing in your life don't you dare start now_)

Wet, laboured breathing hitches but the familiar voice slurs words that take Ian a moment to understand. Get us out of here, he repeats and then nods, tightening his grip. Can do, he asserts, and their legs begin to move underneath them as though independent from their battered bodies.

_v_.

There comes a point where not even will can keep them going, and it comes, hits them, on a cracked footpath with more blood covering their skin than under it. Don's voice is as substantial as a wisp of cloud when he tells Ian to stop because Billy and Colby are going to find them if they stay here. (_Coop'll track us and Colby'll take care of the rest_) His knees won't hold out any longer and they buckle almost as soon as he stops moving.

Ian doesn't hear him, not really, but they sink to the ground in tandem and his other arm wraps around Don's chest to add another hand to the blood-coated tangle of fingers. (_you've been bleeding for miles_)

The flow of blood is slowing but there is barely any blood left for his heart to pump out of his now violently shivering body, if he remembers first aid properly. Every breath was once agony but even that has stopped and it doesn't matter why as he lets himself settle into the curve of Ian's torso as the taller man curls around him. (_you can have this shift Ian I gotta sleep_) Breath ghosts across his ear as Ian whispers something he doesn't quite catch but the warmth makes his hair flutter a little.

His eyes close and he can't fight his body this time as Ian's arm tightens across his chest. (_make sure Coop doesn't get caught okay_) The shivering is easing off and he isn't sure, but his chest feels less tight.

There's a sensation of searing warmth on his neck and a gentle breath crosses the cool skin as he feels his body relax against Ian's chest. (_gonna sleep for a while just make sure they clean me up before the others see please_) The warmth slowly takes over every sense, the shivering dissipating until even the dark is warm. There is a cool hand around his, and then quiet.

* * *

_**Okay. I cried at work, I'll admit it. I apologise if the next story takes a while, life = insanity.**_


End file.
